


Silence and Sound (We Figured It Out)

by myownspark



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Established Relationship, Gay Sex, M/M, Making Love, Oneshot, Porn with Feelings, RPF, Top!Harry, bottom!Louis, larry stylinson - Freeform, non-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:52:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2364974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myownspark/pseuds/myownspark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis reconnect. In a bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence and Sound (We Figured It Out)

They are no longer lads. They are no longer goofily besotted, twitchy with hormones, so obliviously love-struck each time their eyes meet. Used to be they would hold hands without a second thought, letting their eyes linger on each other unrestrained. Back then they could orbit around each other naturally, stand so close their hips touched, and drink the other in whenever they chose.  Four years have changed things; their irrepressible giggles have given way to full-throated hums of appreciation, just as boyish blushing cheeks have given way to angles and planes that show some stubble.  They have become exceptional at resisting the pull of gravity, no longer ever side by side in public.  Although it is a perfected behavior, it is not their nature, and they each look to the other to right their course.

Today they have chosen to stay in. They are in a large bed, sleeping spoon-fashion. Harry is behind with his arm draped over Louis, just their heads and shoulders visible outside the blanket.  Harry tends to sleep in a sprawl, long arms angled along with a seemingly impossible twist in the torso, while Louis sleeps folded in on himself, chin tucked. But this afternoon after they had pulled the blackout shades and gotten into bed, Louis had pulled Harry close behind him so they pressed together from waist to shoulder. Their legs had tangled, and that is how they had fallen asleep.

For over an hour now the only sound in the hotel room has been the slow overhead fan, whose soft whirring muffles any low voices in nearby rooms or doors slamming down the hall. In the dim quiet they are in a cocoon of their own making. Here they can breathe and rest; when the pounding in their ears dies down they can hear each other again, and sometimes they emerge transformed.

Harry stirs first, his head moving slightly into the pillow, then intuitively closer to Louis. He takes a slow breath in as his nose nuzzles the back of Louis’ head. Almonds, he thinks.

“Hmm?” Louis asks softly, after a few beats.      

Did I say that out loud? Harry ponders, confused. He is not opening his eyes, not shifting, wanting to keep Louis close and entwined as long as he can. There is a smile in his voice when he whispers, “You smell like almonds.”

The only response is a breath, and then another, and he senses Louis has fallen back to sleep. But a moment later Louis’ hand finds Harry’s and brings it up to his lips, and Louis kisses the palm lazily before placing it over his heart with his own hand on top.  The heaviness in their sleepy limbs makes the move clumsy, and under their closed eyes their thoughts barely take shape before they float through unattached and are gone.

The next movement sometime later is a shift of Louis’ hip. His foot is asleep (or is it Harry’s? No, it’s mine, can’t feel it anymore, he thinks). He rolls his ankle a few times and flexes his foot to get the blood through, then raises his knee to hook his calf over Harry’s leg. Harry’s rhythmic breathing doesn’t change, but Louis feels the pressure of Harry’s cock against his thigh now, the only stiffening piece of this whole hazy veil of pillow and blanket and warm skin. He reaches his hand back to feel for Harry’s butt cheek, finding the muscle under the skin solid even at rest.  Louis turns his head to brush his nose against Harry’s face, and settles his lips against his for a long second before he turns round again, the covers still draped over them.  He feels the pull of sleep tugging him back, and scarcely tries to fight it.

“Wussat a kiss?” whispers Harry, his voice impossibly soft.

“Mm hmm,” hums Louis. “Just a li’l one.” Louis barely moves his hip, feeling for the full, smooth weight of Harry’s cock.  Eyes still closed, he holds Harry’s bum tighter, and thinks he feels the flex of the muscle.   In return Harry’s hand glides up Louis’ chest and his fingers land on the nipple closest to the mattress.  He brushes the nipple slowly in a circle or two with his thumb.  Now Louis begins to feel the tender ache in his own shaft, warm and alive. His breathing is still easy and deep, but a bloom of heat makes his heart jump.

“Awake, love?” he asks softly, still not opening his eyes. There is only silence and stillness. Some of Louis’ favorite conversations happen in this castaway state between awake and asleep. Their words seem to hover between them in the darkness and hook on and break though to places he thought were bordered up tight. In this space they are no one else’s; it is their own, and here there is nothing left but the truth.

“Was thinking,” murmurs Harry. Breath. Stillness.

“What of?” Breath. Fan blades purr. Breath.

“The sunset … from the roof … Amsterdam,” he answers into Louis’ shoulder. Harry can feel Louis’ back against his chest each time he breathes. It’s exquisite, this closeness.   Harry lies within it and remembers.

“That was… brilliant,” answers Louis after a time, and Harry can hear the memory in his voice. They each see the colors in the sky and feel the freedom of being out there under it, alone with each other. “They never found us that night, did they?” Louis continues softly, and it is a statement rather than a question.

“Nah.” Harry places a kiss on Louis’ shoulder, drags his lips and finally licks his tongue out a bit when he gets to his neck. Louis feels the teeth bite tenderly. The nip goes straight to his cock, which has begun to pulse along with his heartbeat.

“I have one …” Louis begins with a suddenly shaky breath, as he lets Harry explore the other nipple, “our walk … on the beach.” Harry recalls it easily, their pre-dawn journey half in water and half on sand. They had kept on for ages, and when they finally turned round to go back to their hotel they couldn’t see it anymore. They felt far away from everything then, untethered, and then had come the moment when they looked at each other with awe and surprise, and burst into laughter until they collapsed in a pile on the sand.

“Hmmm, yeah…” Harry agrees, his breathing quicker now. “The day we figured it out.” He has slid one arm under Louis’ neck, while the other hand has found Louis’ erection.  Louis hisses between his teeth at first, then lets out a groan when he feels the hand tighten around it. Harry doesn’t stroke it, not yet, just holds the hot firmness still, pressing his thumb against the head teasingly. He uses his shoulder to tilt Louis’ face toward his, and the kiss is wide open and unhurried and coursing with everything Harry wants to tell him about love.  Louis reaches to grasp Harry’s hardness, and their arms overlay under the covers.

There is no talking for long minutes; there is just pressing against and pulling toward and clasping and unfolding. There is a sound like a broken exhale, and moments later, a whispered “yeesss.” In the shadowy room their movements are at once languid and full of power.  It will occur to Louis later that only when he is with Harry does his body feel this effortlessly pliant and molten and at the same time so full of purpose and strength.  That contradiction hovers somewhere just inside his grip of consciousness, but is pushed away by the insistent pleasure that is centered between his legs, where Harry is now moving his fist over the length of him. Louis slowly pushes through the ring Harry has made with his thumb and fingers over and over, and his mouth drops open, letting out a stuttered moan against Harry’s lips. The cover is thrown aside, and Harry is fascinated, feeling and tasting the sheen of sweat on Louis’ upper lip and forehead.  

Their spoon has become an intimate puzzle of interlocking pieces, Harry still on the outside; his lips are slippery and swollen against Louis’ ear when he speaks again, and Louis can feel as well as hear the word.

“Ready?”

It is the way he says it, somehow calm and desperate at the same time, that makes Louis yield completely.  The flat palm he has been sliding over Harry’s slick cock turns into a tightening fist, and Harry can do nothing but bury his forehead in between Louis’ shoulder blades as Louis carefully guides him inside.  

It is not so much as a thrust as it is a deliberately gentle roll of the hips that takes them to that place where there are no more words. Harry is gripping Louis across his torso, hand on his shoulder, lips locked on the back of his neck. Louis can’t open his eyes nor close his mouth. His body wants to gasp and pant but his senses heighten if he breathes deep while they are rocking together in their slow rhythm. With his chest facing the ceiling, Harry under him, Louis feels deliciously pinned; he is completely immobilized by Harry’s arms taut around him but will never feel more free and alive. He abandons the effort to control their movements and lets Harry guide them over the waves. Letting his head fall back over Harry’s shoulder, throat exposed, his brows furrow in concentration but his mouth goes slack. 

Harry clasps Louis to him, his fist still around Louis’ cock and his other arm pressing into his chest. There is no reason to pull even a little way out of Louis, no earthly reason at all. Louis is clenching around him and it is enough to breathe and stretch and blindly press his mouth along the back of his neck. He adores every facet of Louis, but this undone one, open and unfastened, is the one he never tires of rediscovering.  He wants nothing more than for this undone Louis to come.  

He knows what Louis looks like when he gets close; he is sure he would see that expression now if they were face to face. Louis’ loose limbs are starting to contract, and his deep breaths are becoming more strained, punctuated by cries that sound astonished and needy by turns. He feels Louis start to arch up, and he lets him go, stretching one hand around his waist and taking a deep breath, never stopping the persistent undulation of his hips.  

“Yes, come,” he reassures, his fist meeting Louis’ urgency now, twisting and milking his cock firmly. Louis’ hand clasps over Harry’s in the second that his body at last goes tense, and they hold his cock together as the wetness spills over their fists and Louis cries out with relief. Harry’s body forms a secure support for Louis to spasm though the last contractions of his orgasm, and those final tremors are enough to carry Harry over the last biggest wave. He can see it coming, and he is sure it will crush him for good, so he clutches tight to Louis who steadies him while his hips go concave and he is there, pulsing out into the warmth, growling into Louis’ ear.  

Their legs are trembling and their arms go limp, hands finding each other as they come down. They are a mess of gasping sounds and sweaty limbs, trying to catch their breath. It is all Harry can do to reach down for the blanket and suddenly there it is, Louis’ melodic laugh. It pulls Harry up short for a moment, because in that laugh Harry can hear the lad again, the untroubled, devil-may-care one who lives inside the man. He falls back against the bed with a blissful sigh and he begins to chuckle too.

“Let’s open the shades,” Louis says, springing up on buzzy and tingling legs. “I want to see the sun.”

 Harry smiles broadly and replies, “I can see it already.”

**Author's Note:**

> myownsparknow on tumblr


End file.
